The Long Road Home
by donael
Summary: A journey for Sookie to return home after ten years struggling to make herself into a successful professional. What caused her to flee in the first place and how she struggles to find her place within her family and friends. Pam BFF, and Eric. AH/OOC
1. Chapter 1

The Long Road Home

Author's Note: The characters belong to Charlene Harris.

The stars twinkled brightly as I put my sleeping angels into the back seat. Their faces a true reflection of innocence.

In the distance a night owl hooted as I watched a raccoon meander down the street slipping in and out of the shadows looking for an unsecured garbage cans. Many sights were familiar to me and they would be missed but I knew returning home was the right decision for me and my two small children.

A cool breeze tussled my hair as if calling for me to turn and look at my house for the last time. Climbing the familiar steps of the porch, I tugged a lonely key from my pocket. Turning it over in my hand I noticed for the first and last time the slightly worn spot from where my fingers must have twisting a path as I unlocked the door; something so sturdy and resistant to change had been worn away over time.

I locked the front door pausing as I heard the house shift a little, creaking a loud almost as if someone was walking across the wooden floors. As quickly as the sound came it left leaving a stillness in the early morning air. Slipping the key under the welcome mat didn't cause any sadness that I thought it might have. Instead it made my heart feel lighter than in recent memories.

The new owners would be arriving sometime later in the day. All of the papers had been signed previously that week and per our agreement I was out by Saturday morning. Slowly I turned towards the street which held my long road home. Stepping off the porch, walking the short distance to my car I slid into the driver's seat. Turning the key caused my heart to skip a beat as the silence of the early morning was broken.

The engine roared to life and my sleeping angels hardly stirred as my eyes darted into the rear view mirror. I let the old Buick idle for a few seconds before shifting into reverse. Pulling out of the drive for the last time, I could have sworn the ghost of Bill glaring at me as the flash of my headlights hit the stain glass window. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief I hoped his ghost and most of the memories associated with him would stay locked behind the front door of my old home. They would stay put; far away from where I was heading, hopefully.

Leaving the vast urban subdivision, which I had called home for the past five years, I started to think about the path which lead me to where I was in my life and the same path which laid ahead of me in my future. It was funny how the different paths of everyone I knew twisted, diverged, merged and ran parallel at times.

There had been a ten year hiatus from my true Home while I finished what now seemed like loose ends of my life. I couldn't believe I was returning to Rock Springs, Wyoming. I had vowed never to live there ever again a little over six years ago; this was right after I married. It wasn't like I hadn't visited over those ten years but going for a visit and living there were two different animals.

The miles had flown by and my wipers on the car were struggling to keep up with the on slot of bugs pounding the windshield. I knew I needed to stop, easing the old Buick on to the shoulder. I had travelled just shy of 100 miles into my trip. I am on the outskirts of Springfield Illinois, getting ready to manually scrap off splattered winged creatures from my windshield and headlights. Flicking on my emergency lights, I simultaneously grabbed the roll of paper towels and a bottle of Windex from the passenger seat. I had kept it out when I finished packing up the house for just this reason.

I jump from the car hoping to be as quick as possible. Standing on the highway at 4 in the morning is creepy enough but having extra bugs land on me is about to make me want to crawl out of my skin. I swat frantically at the blood suckers and other things which seemed to be attracted to me. As the shivers slipped up and down my spine my thoughts darts in and out of the crevices of my mind. I have dealt with enough unpleasantness in the past few months which make my imagination run wild at the smallest provocation.

Glancing over my shoulder I think I see two glowing eyes in the distance. It must be a feral cat or something because the area I am in doesn't have any large predators; only the human ones. Shaking the feeling of bugs and other loathsome creatures I jump back into the driver seat and speed down the highway trying to leave feelings and thoughts behind.

The bugs are thick for so early in June, the state has recently recorded huge amounts of rain. This was good and bad all at the same time; good because I am able to see my flowers bloom for the final time before my move and bad because there is standing water where the bugs are likely to hatch out from.

Splat! There goes another one center mass on the windshield. It is a good thing I had added washer fluid the previous day. I hate bugs, creepy crawly slimy bugs. My son on the other hand loves them. Constantly he is finding them in our back yard and brings them into the house showing me his new friends. I blame my brother, Jason, for this.

He had given him a Madagascar hissing cockroach right after the kids allergy testing had been completed. Unluckily for me it is one of two things both kids aren't violently allergic too.

"Jason, the kids weren't allergic to dogs! You could have gotten them a dog and I would have been all good with that!" I protested as he presented my three year old son with the ugly little creature which caused me to flinch in slumber or awakeness.

"Yeah but Sis you aren't squimish with dogs." He beamed as my son gently coaxed the half inch bug from his uncle's hands.

"Yurh the best Unkie Hason." My son mumbled as he petted the cockroach.

Looking accusingly at my brother, "How long do they live?"

"In captivity about four to five years." His grin was evil, pure evil. There was no other description which I could fit at that point.

"Tell me it is like four years and ten months old!" My voice was going into an unpleasant range, even for my ears. His grin broadened with the tone change, he knew how much this creature was effecting me.

"Nope, the dude I bought it from said it is just a baby. It should grow another inch and half to two inches long." Quickly my eyes zeroed in on hard shelled hairless creature and then pierced my brother in the heart with laser like intensity.

"Can't kill either him or me that way Sis." He responded cheerily.

The stupid creature named Scar sat in-between my two angels in the back. True to his word the cockroach had grown to a three inches and seemed to be thriving, at least for another day.

I was in serious need of some coffee. Thankfully I had the forethought of making a huge thermos of it the night before. Cold, scalding hot, luke warm; I really didn't care what temperature it was as long as it was loaded with caffeine, sugar and a dash of cream. I knew by the time the kids would wake up we should be somewhere in Missouri. Deftly, I steered with my knee while I poured myself a cup. It was something I had watched my father do often over the years.

He, Jason, Gran and Pam were the four biggest reasons I was returning home. I missed them. Their quirks, caring, love and friendship. It was one of the biggest hurdles I faced when I moved east. They weren't within arm's reach for me to hold or be held. The stark realities of growing up were swift and without mercy. The past four years hadn't been without joys and friendships but I felt lost. There were a few men whom I settled with their company but none of them had the qualities I was looking for in a partner and only one of them had made it into the house at all. Don't underestimate the power of comparison. Unfortunately my father and brother are two very difficult men to be compared with. Smiling I began thinking about them.

My earliest memory of home was with Gran, Mom, Dad and Jason around the Christmas tree. I must have been four because I entered kindergarten the following autumn. Mom was just diagnosis with cancer and would be going to heaven that spring. Gran moved in with us shortly after the cancer started to ravage Mom; Dad was all about saving her. Regrettably, he had very little energy for me or my brother that year and it took him until I was in first grade to recovery completely.

The tree was beautiful and decorated perfectly. It was one of the last things my mom did before she announced she there was going to be no more treatments, needles or doctors. She was terminal and knew it.

Dad held me on his shoulders as I placed the angel on top of the tree. Jason ran around it throwing tinsel around in clumps as he screamed at the top of his lungs jingle bells and Gran sipped sweet tea in her rocking chair. Come to find years later, as an adult, she always generously laced her sweet tea with vodka! I chuckled to myself as I thought "No wonder how she handled me and Jason as teenagers."

Christmas morning dawned with a thin film of snow over the mountains and a dusting on our front lawn. The two of us crept down the hallway peeking into momma and daddy's room waiting for the signal to race down the stairs to the tree and awaiting gifts. It felt like an eternity as daddy helped momma out of bed. But soon enough we were looking through our stocking and shaking brightly wrapped gifts which magically appeared under the tree during the night. Boxes of every shape and size littered the floor as we rearranged gifts in front of the recipients.

I couldn't read but Jason could. He would hand me a gift instructing me where to deliver it. I was the elf. There were all sorts of gifts to open that morning, no other Christmas held the same magical quality for me until I became a mother myself.

The only vivid present I can still remember is a porcelain doll in a wedding dress. Momma had made it during her time waiting for chemo treatments. Hand sewn salt water pearls raced across the wedding dress, flowers emerged from there strands and lace hemmed every edge. In her spare time, mainly while I napped, she had painted the dolls' face and made the veil. It was one of my most treasured items.

When I left for the University I gently wrapped her in an old flannel shirt of my fathers. Gran had placed it in the attic and it is one of the hidden part of my life I want to unbury with my kids.

Their muffed voices break my train of thought. It is a little before seven and on schedule we are in the little town of St. Joseph, Missouri. Thankfully I have travelled close to another 160 miles nearing the Kansas border before my angels wake up and my bladder begins screaming for relief. Pulling off the highway I see the signs pointing me towards the local McDonalds. I am in desperate need for the bathroom facilities but more importantly mass quantities of Java. The kids need breakfast sandwiches and since I still need to feed myself I had better get one for me too.

Some reason both of them could rarely sleep past seven o'clock which is convenient during the work week but hell on the weekends. Alert and wide eyed they begin their daily assault of questions from the backseat. When I tell them we will be stopping in a few for breakfast and play time they were darn near jumping from their car seats in hopes of being able to play on the plastic equipment. The idea of allowing my kids to run around in a public area while wearing their jammies didn't appease me too much but I didn't have the energy to try wiggling two toddlers into day clothes while sitting in the parking lot.

Once inside they sprinted for the bathroom. Since they both finished potty training I was all about potty breaks. Copley complained that he had to go into the girls room to pee but there was no way I was going to let my son into a strange public bathroom to whiz. After our bathroom break and collection of food, the kids played at the little plastic indoor park while I walked around working the kinks out of my legs.

I had only driven a third of the total distance I needed to go to get home. But I was determined to get at least half way before stopping for the day. I figured I would be able to make it until noon when the kids should lay down and take a nap. We played for another 20 minutes until Copley observed people were staring at him in his jammies and I knew he was feeling self-conscious.

We headed back to the car and settled in for the next five hour ride. They were good and had the benefit of watching movies on my lap top or listening to music on their iPods. I refused to say my kids are spoiled; I am. I don't have to listen to them whine while we are cruising down the road. When they were comfortable, I did the long distance zone. It was like turning my brain on autopilot and still paying attention to the road around me.

There were other memories that flitted across my brain as I travelled down the high way but nothing of the magnitude as that first Christmas. I remember the burial plot where my mother was lowered into the ground and playing in the cemetery like it was a playground. I would play Barbie's with my mother or go whittle on my grandfather's grave and discuss the weather. People always thought I was a little touched in the head growing up and it didn't help when I would go my Gran's bridge club telling everyone within shouting distance what funny joke my long dead Grandfather had told me.

So it goes without saying growing up I didn't have very many friends.

The one friend that had remained so my entire life was Pam. We were inseparable during our school years and even though our paths had diverged after leaving Rock Springs, we were always a phone call away, especially when one of us were in the dumps. My mind focused sharply on the present as I changed lanes going around a semi that had its flashers on. Not wanting to lose speed or adjust my cruise control, I switch lanes and continue up the highway. With that shift so did my thoughts.

It had been a difficult ten years to make something of myself. Someone who I was really proud of with achievements attached to my name. I had finally accepted the facts of my past and was moving forward, facing the ghosts who lingered as the frayed edges of my mind. I had been a wall flower for most of my life, now I was living my life not watching others do so. I had been a follower and infrequently taking the helm of large tasks, now I was returning to run my own clinic with research which was important for me. I had always a planned out the next phase of my life, now I had given it over to a higher power and accepted to walk the path in front of me instead of forcing myself on an unnatural course.

Chuckling to myself I pulled away from the philosophical thoughts. It was what it was and now my life is what it is. Thinking on the "was" part of life caused the corners of my mouth to lift into a smile.

Prior to graduating I had never been to the prom or most of the football games just to watch. I was involved in clubs that would get me ahead of life; it had been all part of a larger scheme of things. I had been to the shooting range with Jason, Dad and Eric on the weekends for fun. There were science fairs, math bowls and lots of homework. I was involved in sports year round; swimming, tennis, hockey and karate. The last I earned a brown belt at the local dojo and was unwilling to go through with the initiation of qualifying for a black belt. Basically every black belt who did the same discipline as me, Kempo Karate, would be invited to spar me. It was typically an all-day event that resulted in a lot of bodily harm. Nope, I loved to spar but I just had a limit to it.

Everything I did was to attract the interest of colleges. Anything that the colleges looked at for entrance into a scholarship or low rates on tuition, I did it. In the spring of my 18th year I did graduate and earned an honor scholarship to the local community college. I had to have scholarships to finish my education because my family, although we weren't poor, by no means were we well off enough for my Dad to pay for college. We lived in the older part of town, not the fancy Victorian looking houses off of the hill. No my house was directly across from the cemetery, hence my ability as a child to sit on my Mom's grave and have long draw out conversations. We were a happy little family my senior year in high school. Jason was at the University of Wyoming finishing his degree in Mining Engineering. Gran, Dad, and I shared our little four bedroom house with my best friend Pam. My best friend was a riot- Pamela Ravencroft.

Although her mom on the other hand was far from a riot; it was more like she caused them. She was subject to schizophrenic attacks of psychosis; it was brutal to see what Mrs. Ravencroft had to endure. This was woman who in her 20's doted on her daughter, who had made us cookies for our second grade Halloween party, was so involved in Pam's life she was our Girl Scout leader from 1st to 5th grade.

All that changed shortly after she turned 30, things started happening. Small things like she would become too depressed to pick Pam up from school, or forget to take a bath for weeks on end. Mr. Ravencroft had been killed in a car accident shortly after these bizarre things started happening at their house, it only compounded the stress Mrs. Ravencroft was under. The community did their best to support and encourage her but within the year she was mainly sitting on the sofa lost in her own reality. Around Christmas our 6th grade year she was placed in hospital for treatment, Southwest Counseling Center up on the hill took her for three weeks and returned a woman who was completely transformed back into the woman we all knew and loved.

Relief was easily seen on everyone's faces as she gently sat at the New Year's feast. Gran had cooked all of Mrs. R's favorite foods as a welcome home, we sat around the big table. There were scars in the wood from past generations and feasts. There was laughter and joy that day at my house. But it was short lived.

For the next seventeen years she was in and out of the various hospitals. Through junior high and high school Pam lived mainly at my house, she would return to her mom's house to check up on her in the afternoons and if she was alright Pam would sleep in her own bedroom but more than likely- especially when her mom was having a serious episode landing Mrs. Ravencroft in the hospital- Pam would have the top bunk in my bedroom.

I was driven throughout high school always studying for the next big test; I had something to prove but I was never certain who I needed to prove it to. Under no circumstances did I considered slowing down and enjoying the social aspect of school. That was Pam's department. Dances, committee's, social clubs, study groups for fun were her extracurricular activities. I hadn't gone through any of the typical social milestones because I thought I didn't need to. My brains would carry me through; this would cause me great angst when I arrived on the east coast near my 21st birthday.

I was so advanced in math, English and science the local teachers had nothing to offer me during my junior year. It was the decision of my dad and administrators' it would be in the best interest for my education if they sent me up the hill to the Community College. It was fondly nick named Wicy Wac.

By the time I graduated high school in the spring, I was considered a sophomore in college. Taking classes year round helped me graduated with my Associates degree a year after high school. Graduating in the top two percent of my class earned another scholarship to the University of Wyoming, to start in the fall. That summer was the last time Pam and I would share a room for more than three days in a row for close to ten years.

For the year while I stayed in town to finish my Associates, Pam went ahead to the University in Laramie. Since she was there a year before me, we never shared a room afterwards, except when we came home for breaks; a rarity for me.

Taking the maximum amount of credits at the University helped me graduate earlier than most of the incoming juniors and gave me an edge at accomplishing my goals; it wasn't an uncommon semester for me to have a 21 credit load. A normal student credit hours would be near 14 for a full time schedule. My schedule was insane and people took a wide berth from me as I would race from one class to the next.

I was blessed with my scholarship because the burden most students had for tuition, dorm or books wasn't a concern. Pocket money wasn't too much of an issue either since I had a work study included in my scholarship. So budgeting money wasn't one of my strong skills until I suddenly found myself alone with adult financial predicaments just shortly before my 25th birthday.

Times of enjoyment or relaxation were brief and more of a family requirement than something I looked forward to. Pam would drag me home for quick weekend trips when she needed back up at home and it was a requirement to return for the two Christmas breaks, fall breaks, and spring breaks. The summer was no time for breaks as far as I was concerned but a chance to rapidly move towards the sheep skin. The one summer I was there I stayed and took a stupid amount of classes. While Pam worked for the chamber of commerce in our home town, I was drowning in chemistry classes. When she came back in the fall starting her junior year, I was finishing my final semester for my undergraduate.

It did take four semesters of class to complete the final two years of college. Working on them consecutively helped me finish a year and half earlier than my high school counterparts. Graduation day was a cold and gloomy affair outside, but my classmates and I were completely hyped to be finishing. I graduated in the top one percent with my Bachelors in Biochemistry and was youngest of my class at twenty and a half years old.

My family was there in the audience cheering me on as I walked across the platform. I couldn't have been happier when I grasped my diploma. The chemistry and biology department were looking for a Teacher's Assistant for the spring and I took the position while studying for my GRE. I passed the huge graduate exam with flying colors and was accepting offers from tons of Universities to come and visit. That summer Pam and I had a Huelva time toad tripping across the country seeing which institution I would attend.

Since I had never been to the East coast, and they were willing to foot the bill for my doctorate, it was a pretty painless decision when choosing my school; University of Baltimore-Maryland. I made my way there in my fuchsia Buick Dad had bought me for my graduation present. The road trip was lonely, as was the next year. I was so involved in my schooling I never had time to stop and enjoy the scenery or any of the benefits of living on the East coast. One day while studying in a very packed library a dark and handsome man approached me about using the other half of my table, I had about every book I ever owned with me and had reserved the table for the two years I should be working on my degree. I was a little pissed about the fact the library could not accommodate everyone that needed to study for spring finals but I adjusted my books and waved to the clean half of the table ungraciously. Gran would have been pissed that I was not more hospitable but to tell the truth; I was a bit worried about acing my up and coming exam than being polite. Over the next two weeks it became a ritual that he would approach, I would clear a space and then we would work in silence. At the end of the two weeks I was automatically leaving 'his' half of the table open. A couple times I had to scowl at undergraduates who would approach the mysterious man's half of the table. By the third week he was bringing me latté's or caffeinated beverages to keep up the vigorous pace of studying. On the last day of the semester two hours before my last final, he introduced himself.

Here is the time line that goes along with this story:


	2. Chapter 2

The Long Road Home

Chapter 2

Author's Note: These characters belong to Charlene Harris. I just made everybody human.

The gas gauge had gone down slowly but my Dad always taught me to have half a tank or more when driving highway because you just never know when the car will break down or where the next gas station will be. So I pull into a little mom and pop shop to fill up. I hate those big chain gas stations, I know most of these smaller gas stations won't be around when my kids are older but I want to support a local economy even when driving cross country.

I pull up next to the pump and a young guy in his late teens, complete with pimples and all asks me which gas I want. Noting the price, I say premium and his eyes light up. He pumps while I run in and pay. The kids want to get out and run around but we are right next to a major road so I have to be a hard ass and tell them no.

Getting out my cell phone, I notice I have service and so I make a quick call to home.

Dad picks up on the third ring, "Hey kiddo, how's the trip going?"

"Dad, I was expecting you to be in Omaha." I am a little caught off guard by his voice at the other end of the line.

"Nope, overtime came up at the mine and with Gran's up and coming hip surgery I just couldn't say no to it. Where are you at?" I can hear him shuffling around most like in the kitchen.

"Oh, I still have a couple of more hours of driving. So who is going to help me drive tomorrow?" I am a little put out that Dad needs the overtime for Gran's surgery I had told him I was willing to pay for it. But he had told me no; he takes care of his family's needs. Trying to brush it off, I turn over the engine while cradling the phone against my shoulder.

"Don't worry; we have someone waiting in Omaha. Sorry Sookie, Gran is calling me to the other end of the house, I better run and find out what she wants. Talk to you soon. Bye." The phone goes dead.

Copley asks from the back seat the proverbial road trip question, "Are we there yet?"

"No Honey it is going to be a couple more hours, how's the computer doing?" I sigh as I buckle my seat belt and adjust the mirrors slightly to a more comfy position.

"Fine, but sissy won't let me watch anything but Bawbie movies. Mommy," In such a high pitched whine I think my eardrums will burst, "can you tell hew it's my turn to watch something? Pleaze!"

"Sissy, you both have to be entertained back there, choose something together." Slowly we ease out of the filling station and reentered the highway. I set the cruise control while my angels in the back seat fight for control of the electronic equipment. Quickly enough they settle on something, thank God I have head phones for them because I absolutely loath Sponge Bob Square Pants. But hey the kids love it.

I floated back in history as the miles peeled away on the highway.

* * *

The mysterious man had been haunting my dreams for three weeks. He was an enigma that only surfaced while I was dead to the world. I had no name for him, just his presence at the table. But I woke a few too many times with my alarm going off and my face planted firmly against my pillow in a warm embrace. It was the closest thing I was going to get with him.

But the day of my final exam for the semester, I was doing my last minute study session at my/ our table. When he came up, I was just rereading a section on the effects of anti-psychotic's in teens and the depression rate following treatment. Very dry stuff even for someone like me who totally digs chemical interactions. So when the mystery man approached the table and introduced himself I was on the brink of hysteria.

"I know we have been sharing a table for almost a month but my name is William T. Compton, but everyone calls me Bill." He had dark smoldering eyes that talked to me in my dreams. His voice had a southern drawl to it, just like my grandfathers did, or so Gran told me. As charming as he was I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Bill? Bill? You look like a Sebastian or …or something Italian but a Bill?" My voice started to rise and I could tell I was on the break of something unpleasant. I made a bee-line for the court yard nearest my table, as I was followed by not only Bill but the prying eyes of our fellow students.

He touched my shoulder as we pass through the threshold, and I broke. Violently I started sobbing. Gathering me in his arms, I let my tears fall freely over a stranger. Then I started babbling. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse. Nice to finally meet you." My tears turned into these weird hiccups and he just rubbed my back as I ruined his nicely pressed cotton shirt. "I'm sorry about all of this. It's just I have basically had no human contact with anyone in about a year."

"Come now, a pretty little thing like you with no people around to care for you that is silly." He was petting my hair and I snuggled a deeper into his chest.

"Seriously, my family is in Wyoming and being out here for school has consumed me. You touching my shoulder and talking to me triggered something, unsettling." I was babbling and I realized it but I couldn't help myself. That was mistakenly taken for weakness on Bill's behalf.

He released me and we sat talking on a bench for close to an hour, until I realized I had my last final in less than twenty minutes. I rushed to gather all of my books, storing them in my locker near the coat room. Bill caught me just as I was running out of the library towards the science building. He asked if we could meet sometime over the summer. I vaguely told him yes, which he took as interest and I ran the quarter mile to class while I tried calming down to focus on my final.

* * *

The spring semester was over and I was looking forward to my brief trip back home. Pam was graduating with her degree in Economics and Finance, with a minor in Marketing. She was planning on going to our hometown and taking it by storm. Her ambition was to become the next city treasurer; I had faith that she would do just that. She had always been a little misses money bags and now wanted to make the city just as wealthy as she thought it could be.

Taking my flight to Denver International Airport was uneventful. There were a few rude men whom seemed to enjoy me struggling to get the carry on into the overhead luggage bin. One elderly gentleman came to my rescue when he realized I wasn't going to be able to get the smallish suitcase into the bin. I am sure it had to do something with his wife pointing and commenting.

"Well little one that is a bit of a stretch for a half pint like you." His sky blue eyes crinkled kindly at the corners.

"It seems God didn't bless me in that area it is definitely true." I smiled at him. He reminded me of my grandfather on my mom's side of the family. His slight southern drawl was hidden in his vowels and the pearl button western shirt was the clincher.

"Let me see if I can give you a hand then." Taking the case gently from me he easily and quickly secured the piece of luggage. Then ambled back to his seat.

"Thank you for your assistance." I said to his back.

"Well some of the younger men could have helped had they not been slacked jawed by your figure and beauty." He yelled down the aisle to me as his wife smacked him on his shoulder. I laughed merrily as two thirds of the eyes which were undressing me a few seconds ago either blushed or quickly averted their eyes.

The rest of the flight was uneventful and I browsed through a magazine or cat napped for the five hour flight. Exiting the plane the man next to me grabbed my case for me and gave it at me. I needed to rent a car for my use over the next two weeks while I was home. I had thought it was going to be a snap because of my credit and responsible nature. I was wrong.

Since I had just 22nd birthday I felt people should have rented me a car but they were unbending in their rules about renting to someone under the age of 24. Seriously, I had been on my own for three years and has a BS for Christ sake.

I was stomping away from the counter when this Viking God came up to me and asked if I was heading to Laramie or Rock Springs. I knew him from somewhere but I couldn't place my finger on him.

"I'm going to Laramie; I was going to meet my family. We are going on watching my best friend's graduation." I stood cocking my head from side to side trying to figure out where I had seen him before, his voice sounded awful familiar. I was sure I looked like a puppy at one point or another.

"Yeah, Pam's graduation is pretty monumental. Do you want to ride with me?" He looked around me to the four suitcases I had hidden behind me. "I think there will be enough room with your entire luggage."

I was at a complete loss for words, he knew Pam and he must have known me if he knew Pam was my best friend and the fact that he thought is 'monumental' that she was graduating he had to know her pretty well. Shaking my head out of my rambling thoughts I just asked him, "How do we know on another, I think we have meet before but I just can't place you for the life of me."

"If I say a chant you might remember, 'Sookie, Sookie red you bookie cuz your never gonna get nookie'." My eyes snapped to his, Eric Northman my fucking nemesis from the time Pam and I could walk.

"I think I better find another ride, have a good one." I brushed past him to go argue with the girls behind the counter again. There was no way in hell, and I do mean hell that I would ride the three and half hours sitting next to him. Before I even steeped two feet away from the counter a gentleman in a blazer came out from a back office. He explained in oversimplified terms that they were unable to rent someone under the age of 24 a car do to insurance purposes.

I turn around to see Eric still standing by my luggage, waiting for me to return. Swallowing a bitter pill, was that my pride? I walk back over to him and unceremoniously ask, "So where's the car?"

"Right this way Miss Stackhouse." He leaned down and picked up the biggest three pieces of my luggage, along with his suit bag. All I had to do was pick up my makeup case and his briefcase and then follow him to the damn car.

We talked minimally about things on the three hour and fifty seven minute journey. Yeah, I counted. He tortured Pam and me growing up. He was my brother's best friend and seemed to be at the house just as much as I was. I loved my brother because the Bible and mainly Gran told me I had too. But no one ever wrote in the Bible to love Eric Northman. Some of the comments he made while I was growing up were completely annoying:

"When are you going to grow up" "_Have no idea Eric when are you going to grow a pair and leave?_"

"Are you going to get those braces off anytime soon?" "_Just as soon as the dentist finds his pliers, Eric." _And other snarky remarks back and forth.

This time our conversation was more cordial we talked about school, he was finishing his PhD in California and the University of San Francisco. The similarity in our degrees was so close it was hard to believe. But made mental notes of all the differences we did have. He wasn't on a scholarship; I was. He had his own apartment by the bay; I was land locked and lived on campus. He graduated average in his class; I graduated with honors each time. He, of course, had a girlfriend; I fibbed and said I had been seeing a guy for a while.

"Oh, yeah. What's his name?" Eric didn't take his eyes off the road as we twisted along the back road from Fort Collins to Laramie.

Racking my brain for that guy's name was not as easy as it seemed, I studied with him for weeks but only actually talked to him for a minuscule amount of time. Panicking I told him some random name that I thought might be close. Blurting out, "Jed Clampett."

Eric not one to miss a beat responded, "Like from the Beverly Hillbillies?" He wasn't being nasty, I knew the moment the name left my mouth it was completely wrong and from my childhood. Of course it would have to be a hillbilly name, it probably had something to do with the guy's accent. Crap, he was going to catch me in a lie.

"Yeah, he is from the south and it is a running joke between us." Trying to laugh it off, I was about to change the subject when he asked.

"So are you being safe?"

If the car could have had a magic hole that would swallow me I would have gladly gone into it. Being safe, like as in sex? I hadn't even had a proper date with the guy and Eric is asking if I was being safe. I must have been beet red but Eric wasn't paying attention to my coloring because his eyes were glued to the road. Sitting there not saying anything for a really long time, he must have gotten impatient of something because I noticed he had the steering wheel in a death grip. His knuckles were freaking white and I noticed the cords in his neck were strained for some reason.

"Um, we haven't progressed that far, so I guess I'm pretty safe." I finally answered with a very truthful statement. He relaxed, his hands loosened on the steering wheel and his neck looked less strained.

"Are you still a virgin Sookie?" He said it no more than a whisper but if felt like he yelled it at me.

"That, sir, is none of your business!" I huffed, I was more than pissed that he called me out.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked but I was just hoping…" He glanced my way to tell me something but just as he did an antelope burst from a nearby bush.

"ERIC!" I screamed pointing at the road.

His head snapped forward as he threw his arm wide effectively pinning me to my seat all the while he stomped on the brake pedal. The antelope gracefully bounced back the way it came and I had a hard time catching my breath.

Since we were basically stopped, he pulled over to the side of the road and checked me literally from head to toe and back again. I winced when he touched my upper arm; I was going to have a bruise there and where my seat belt locked over my right clavicle. When his hands roamed my face, his fingertips grazed over my cheekbones sending shivers down my spine. I must have been leaning into his hand because it was a short distance for him to brush his lips, not once but three times across mine before he attacked. Now it wasn't a bad attack but since I was just talking to him about some 'boyfriend' only a minute before it was a bit inappropriate.

As his tongue invaded my mouth, a flashback form one time when we were all playing spin the bottle erupted in my mind. He and I were at a mutual friend's house during the final days of my 7th grade year while he was a freshman in high school, the parents were at work and none of us should have been there but we were. The older boys wanted to play spin the bottle and since Jason wasn't there to tell the guys to go fuck themselves, I ended up playing along with Pam.

We both went into the closet with different guys; there was Tray Dawson, John Quinn and Eric. There were a couple others playing but those were the three guys I ended up with. Tray was nice but he was so nervous he bit my tongue the moment mine entered his mouth. John was all over me and I felt terribly molested by the end of our time in the closet. Eric on the other hand was short at the time- he had yet reached his growth spurt and I was about three inches taller than him.

Kissing was a bit awkward to say the least but by the time we were don I had to ask Pam a few questions. Eric kept moving his mouth over mine like a pro and then he would turn my head with the palm of his hand, laying kisses along my neck and scraping his teeth in the most sensitive areas. We were rubbing all over one another and he must have had a large pocket knife in the front of his jeans because it kept poking me in the thigh. By the end of our five minutes I was close to having my first orgasm right there. Anyway I think I had just had my 12th birthday and Eric was 14.

Back to the car, I was moaning into his mouth and my seat belt went away as he picked me up, bringing me to sit on his lap. While never leaving my mouth. I had worn a nice dress suit for the flight and graduation because I didn't want to have to change when I arrived in Laramie. So right then it was getting quite wrinkled by Eric's hands moving the skirt higher and higher up my thighs. I had a natural tan at the time and didn't feel the need for stocking but I doubt it would have stopped him.

By the time his ministrations on my mouth were over he was basically had me straddling him with my skirt bunched around my waist and we were grinding on one another. He had somehow managed to unbuckle his slacks and soot them down his legs. He had gone commando and by the way he felt he was huge. We were grinding against one another and it took me a small amount of time to peak. Hey, I was an amateur.

As I arched against him in my climax, he slipped his hand under my panties and a finger inside of me. It was the first thing I had ever had inside me, and I clenched my walls around his finger as the muscles contracted and released in my orgasm. He must have been really close because the next few seconds he had to change his t-shirt he was wearing.

I had averted my eyes because even though we had just dry humped one another I didn't want to look at _him_. When we would get out of the car in less than an hour I was definitely going to be doing the walk of shame. Something I had never ever done.

After he cleaned up a little and changed his shirt we were back on our way to Pam's graduation. We drove for a while in an uncomfortable silence. But I could never be too quite very long and I had been meaning to save up my money to buy one of those iPod thingies but they were rather expensive still. The radio sucked unless you were really close to a town and we were not there yet so I made small talk.

"So are you going to be staying with your folks while you are in town or at Jase's?" I knew he and Jason bunked together from time to time. I always received the latest tow gossip and any other gossip Gran to fish out.

"The folks, they are grooming me to take over the company. So I will have to hob-nob with the local medical community to get in good with them." He didn't sound too pleased about the whole deal. If I was able to walk in to a clinic and run my own trials, I wouldn't turn my nose up at a little hob-nobbing.

Curiosity got the better of me, "Eric, why don't you want to help run your folks clinics? It must be right up your alley when you finish your doctorate."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, like a squirming little boy, "I just want to make it on my own I really don't want anything handed to me, can you understand that? They want for me to be groomed and manicured so I fit into their molds' it is not like I wouldn't like doing some of the stuff they are accomplishing but I want to branch out with the research and stuff. They think it would not be a good idea and lead to complications."

"I thought your parents were pretty progressive. What is it that you want to do, that they don't?"

"Don't laugh," he gave me a side glance still wary of taking his eyes off the road, "I want to be able to research more on mental health. I have always been interested in mental illness especially ones that have to do with chemical imbalances and mood shifts."

"Because of Mrs. Ravencroft?"

"Yeah, she was my nanny for a long time. I remember he when I was really little., even when she was pregnant with Pam. She was always so awesome to me growing up, but when I was about 13 she just changed like overnight. I know you were right there too but she was more of a mom to me than my own mom. Jason and I had always been friends but when Mrs. Ravencroft lost it, I had to be around Pam. Since she was at your house so was I. I've always felt she was my sister." His cheeks were a little flushed and we fell back into a silence but this time it was a comfortable one.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: All characters belong to Charlene Harris.

A yell emitted from the rear of my car and I glance in the mirror just in time to see my angel baby girl take a whack at her brother. Easing on the brake I pull over to the side of the road. I am not one of those moms who will threaten with no action; typically it was all action and very little threatening. Turning on my blinker, I slowly decelerated and pull off at the nearest exit. The short ramp had zero inhabitants on it and I was able to park in dirt shoulder.

Once I stopped I look into the back seat. We had done this several times prior and they know what is going to happen. Taking a coin out of my pocket and flipping it, I tell Copley call it. Heads is his response; it is always his response. But just to be fair I still ask. It landed on tails.

"Ok, sissy what happened?" I ask in my most gentle stern mommy voice.

"Copley unplug my ear buds!" She held up the end of the cord with the metal insert dangling like a pendulum in the breeze. Copley was shaking his in a negative fashion at mock nine.

"Even if Copley had done it on purpose is it ok to hit?" I quirk my eyebrow up.

"No, momma." Turning her little head she reaches over and pats her brother's arm. "Sorry, Kopee. Love you and hope it doesn't hurt."

Copley kisses his hand and places it on his older sister's head, the thing about my Copley is he is a monster of a child so his hand covers her nose and up over her forehead. Smiling at the two of them, I tell them it is not much longer until our next break time. Copley re-plugged the ear buds and into SpongeBob land they went again.

I re-enter the high way and set the cruise control once again. One of my all-time favorite songs pops up on my iPod. Criminal by Fiona Apple.

* * *

The beginning of my sophomore year, I was 15, just undergoing major brace face removal and people were starting to look at me in a whole new light. My self-confidence had gone through the roof and it did help Jason and his crew had left for college the beginning of the semester. I started to explore activities outside my little bubble in life. I joined the prep club, theater, choir, and so many clubs I never was out the high school longer than what I needed to sleep. Gran even joked if I could find a cot as soft as my bed to put up in the gym they might never see me.

The homecoming dance was fast approaching and as I was on the dance committee it was assumed I would be in attendance. As it was none of the upper classmen were interested in taking me, it meant I would have to sucker a senior for the previous year to take me. Jason's friends were my best bet and Gran was on the war path to find me a date. She burned up the cells of every boy Jason had ever been friends with, trying to find me a date. His three best friends would be coming home and I might get lucky. Tray Dawson, John Quinn and Eric, Gran commonly called the boys the four musketeers.

The Friday before the dance, Tray called excitedly from WYO Tech, informing Gran he was going to the dance with Tara Thornton the homecoming Queen from the previous year. My hopes for a date sunk a little after that.

Gran was contacting Jason on a daily basis trying to help me find a date. Eric called shortly after 8 on Tuesday night conveying to Gran he was taking Sophie-Anne Claire; she was a beautiful senior who had followed the four of them around in hopes of dating one of them all last year. I figured she was going to give Eric something that I had no intentions of giving anyone until marriage.

John was the only left who could have taken me and I figured he was going to be out of town still. There wasn't in town I really wanted to ask; I didn't know most of the boys at the school. If they needed help with homework, I was looked at as a nerd. If they were my peer in the smarts department most of them thought going to a dance was stupid and a waste of a good gaming night. So I was out of options. Figuring I was going to the dance by myself was better than nothing, I resolved that I could just hitch a ride with Pam. At that point I was really bummed.

John called Wednesday morning from Denver. Gran talked to him for a few minutes laughing tightly about whatever he was saying about Jason leaving so many text messages it was going to cost a small fortune. Gran told him that I was still looking for a date for the dance; her voice was mild but I could tell from her posture that he better be on guard because she was wound up tighter than a noose. She handed me the phone and went to go get some sweet tea out of the frig.

I was commonly referred to as Brat and that is how he greeted me on the phone.

"Hey Brat, heard you couldn't find a date for the big dance."

"Actually, I could have found a date but I was a little busy with all the activities I have been in." I fibbed a little; John didn't need to know how it was. Oh, I hated to be called Brat. Eric is the one who coined the phrase among others.

"Well, I will be heading through town Friday anyhow, so I'll take you to the dance. Do I need to wear anything fancy?" John was a Mixed Martial Arts fighter going on a circuit; he was trying to get picked up for his aggressive fighting abilities.

We had studied Kempo together since I was about 5. Up until my sixth or seventh grade year we sparred using the moves we learned to practice blocking, kicking, and other moves. After then he became too aggressive and unpredictable when sparring, which had made him such a good MMA fighter, and was banned working with any younger students. He was limited to brown and black belt students.

"Nope, just a button down and nice pants will do. You gonna stay with your folks? Are they even around anymore?" Thinking about it I had not seen John's mom in a really long time; his dad was sort of always absent so it wasn't too much of a stretch to not see him for years at a time.

"Nah, I'm gonna stay in a hotel." He huffed out like it was too much of a bother to go see his folks and little sister. "It is all business expenses anyhow, I have a fight that is in Nevada on Sunday. I will be just as easy to get to Rock Springs and then drive through Utah on my way there as anything else."

Gran gently reminded me that I had glee club in twenty minutes from across the kitchen table.

"Hey John, I have to get to school. Glee club stuff this morning." I pinned the phone between my head and shoulder. Deftly I began to secure my thick masses of hair into the daily hair band.

"What? God girl! You are at the school it seems than you are at your house." His chuckle vibrated through the phone.

"I know! Gran tells me that all the time. So I will see you sometime on Friday. Let Jason know you surrendered to my and Grans powers of persuasion so the texts will stop." I laughed as I packed a quick lunch.

"Right. Talk to you on Friday Brat. Bye." He hung up faster than I could scold him for the nickname.

Kissing Gran on the cheek I ran out the door with her eyes following me; had I been paying closer attention I would have noticed the worry and love hidden in their depths.

* * *

The next two days flew by in a whirlwind of finally preparations for dresses and decorating. I was pulling the dull jean dress that I had worn for my school pictures from the closet when Gran stepped into my bedroom Friday morning.

"You can wear that to school but not to the dance." She was leaning against the door jam. Dad had left for work an hour before. Pam was in Jason's room until tonight when she would have the top bunk in my room again.

"Are you gonna show it to her? Or am I going to grow old holding it?" Pam had bellowed from just outside the door.

"Oh, Sweet Baby Jesus. Young lady, I was just prepping what I was going to tell her." Gran retorted to the sassy britches.

"What is going on Gran?" I had just finished latching my bra second before she opened the door. It is so embarrassing when she just randomly walks in on me in various stages of dress!

"Well after Pam's little tiff with her dress, I figured you needed something a little more fancy for your first dance than a jean dress." She said the last part with disgust; I knew she loathed the rough fabric dress that had been my favorite for the last two years. I had hit a stopping point in my growth. Everyone else had kept growing and consequently I had been able to keep a lot of the same clothes since my eighth grade year.

Pam stepped forward with a cream dress that had spaghetti straps. Gran had made me a surprise. It was a beautiful empire style dress that hugged my chest and flowed gracefully to the floor.

Between the two of them it took me a matter of five seconds flat to have it whipped over my head, zipped up and adjusted to make sure all the parts were in the right place. My mirror was on the back of my door which they were both standing in front of.

"Oh, Sookie you look so beautiful!" My Gran told me, there were tears in the corner of her eyes. "Your mom would be so proud of the talented, kind, and beautiful young woman you have become."

My eyes stung with the unshed tears; there were many days that I wondered what my mom would have thought of me if she was still alive. Would we fight, what would be her favorite thing about me, what would she want me to change about myself the most… A single tear slipped over my lashes.

"Gran, stop." Pam squeezed her shoulders from right behind the frail woman. She had shot up over the last six months causing quite a stir. At five nine she loomed over me and Gran. "She looks hot! I should wear this dress and she can have mine."

That got Gran into action, "Pamela Leyanna Ravencroft! After all the trouble that dress has caused me." Look at my fingers they have been worked to the bone on your dress! You will wear it with it's newly done hem line."

"You fixed the hem?" Pam almost was jumping up and down with the excitement only a 15 year old girl can have over new clothes.

"Yes, girl I fixed that damn hem line. One and a half inches and you would have thought they had given you a size 42 the way you carried on over it." Gran went into the hall closet and brought back the dress she had bought with her car wash money. Ordering the must have dress from one of Gran's catalogs had been an ordeal. Money orders were purchased, mail was sent, and the reception of one pink chiffon dress arrived Saturday afternoon of last week.

Yet when she tried it on for the first time she bitched about the hem being too long and did so until it drove Gran to distraction and hid it from her until just now. Pam was standing her in bra and panties by the time Gran had returned to my room.

The mirror was free for a second and I looked at myself. The only blaring thought was: "My boobs look huge in this dress!" I exclaimed out loud.

"They are the same size they are always my little love. You just aren't wearing a potatoe sack to cover yourself up." Gran was help Pam zip up the back of the dress.

"Oh my!" Gran stepped back to look at both of us. There were fresh tears streaking down her face when I turned back around.

"Gran, don't cry." There were very few things that unsettled me, her tears were one of them. "We aren't going anywhere yet. You are stuck with us for at least a few more years."

"The years have just flown by. You girls have been such a joy to watch and love." Gran wiped the tears away with a worn handkerchief that she carried in the pockets of her robe.

We hugged Gran and let the emotions go. She helped us out of the dresses. I felt a little less grownup putting on my jean dress and adjusting my ponytail. The only thing that I wasn't going to miss from the last two years were my braces. I ran my tongue over the newly straightened teeth.

* * *

The rest of the day flew by.

Jason showed up Friday morning riding in with Eric and John. Tray showed up later in the day driving some terribly noisy truck. By the time the decorations were up in the gym I barely had enough time to run home take a quick shower, run a brush through my hair and slip my dress on. Pam insisted on me putting on a little blush and lip gloss. I thought both were completely unnecessary.

It was custom for the guys to take their dates to the local truck stop on the edge of town for dinner before any dance. I drove with Jason and Pam out to Cruel Jacks truck stop. Everyone else met us there. John had a big old Cadillac that had been his mom's. It was huge, it's pink and smells like someone put perfume on the seats. It was one of those Mary Kay awards cars. His mother had been the best seller in the area when I was in elementary school and it was the talk of the town; her pink car.

When we sat down for dinner I sat next to Tara Thornton and John was on my other side. The guys swapped stories about how their first year away from our small town life had progressed. John bragged about how he was training for an up and coming fight and his losses and wins. Eric was cramming for his finals in various science classes. Tray tried telling everyone that would listen about how he would be taking over his father's diesel service shop after his training at WYO Tech was complete. Jason whined about the football practices he attended that were connected to his scholarship. Pam sat across from my smiling fool of a brother and nodded at everything he said it was a bit disgusting.

The food came and since Cruel Jacks was famous for burgers and steaks that are what everyone ate. Tray and Quinn had their meat so rare management had to sign waivers. I had the same as Eric a Blue cheese Burger with steak fires. Unlike Eric I had left over's for later. When the bill came the guys all chipped in for it except John. Jason for some reason paid for me and my date. I had a feeling Jason was paying essentially for John to take me to be seen with me.

My cheeks were so hot by the time the waitress sorted out the money, Pam asked me what was wrong with me. I mumbled something about having a stomach ache, which was true but it wasn't the food that had caused the upset. It was the fact my big brother was paying one of his friends to date me.

It was a breezy night, I loved the wind and how it would make my hair dance on end. Since it was late September I only required a light something for my arms. Gran had let me borrow and nice shawl with fringe hanging off the bottom. I had walked out of the restaurant without it, when I turned around to go fetch it; Eric was striding towards me with my said shawl in hand. Holding it out for me, he wrapped me up into it and placed his hand in the small of my back leading me to John's car.

Whispering into my ear, "Sookie I'm really sorry about this, my mom had set up this date weeks ago." Dropping a quick kiss on my shoulder he added, "She didn't even ask me if it was ok."

"It's ok Eric, John is going to be my date and Sophie-Anne will be yours, it is not like we won't be able to dance with other people when we get there." Glancing over his shoulder I just catch the last bit of a long embrace from his date and mine.

"Well, just promise me I can drive you home. I want to make sure you get there alright." His face has turned bright red for some reason.

"I'm sure I can make it back to my house fine. Don't worry about me. You better go catch up with your date; I'll see you in a few minutes at school." Eric had, the best way I could describe it was a constipated look on his face. But he nodded his head and jogged the short distance to his Dad's old Chevy Charger. Pam and Jason had already taken off with Tray and Tara in his crew car Chevy noisy ass truck. That left John and I to follow suit in his caddy.

He was playing the part of a gentleman and opened the door for me. "Want to get in B-"

"John if you call me Brat one more time you will be saying it an octave higher," I glance down to his crotch and back up to his face.

"I bet you would." He eyed me from head to toe, making me feel terribly uncomfortable causing me to pull my Gran's shawl tighter around my chest. "Your right it has been a long time, perhaps it is time for a new nickname what about Babe instead." Cocking his head to the side to see if the name would fit, he nodded without my approval. "Yeah, that will do."

I slid into the passenger side seat. Feeling sicker to my stomach by the second; the only time it eased was when Eric was near. So I told John I was feeling under the weather.

"That is too bad. I really wanted to dance with you, to see how you move." He leered across the seat towards me.

My mouth acting of its own accord blurted out, "Why is Jason paying for our date? Is he paying you to take me out?"

Pulling out of the parking lot and getting up on the highway, he gave me a side glance while still being mindful of the rode. "Babe what are you talking about? Jason paid for dinner in order for me to keep my hand off you tonight."

Now I had always be immune to John's powers of persuasion so I was a bit confused by the transaction between him and my brother. "John what do you mean? That Jason isn't paying you for our date but rather for you to be distant while on our date?"

"That's it in about a nut shell. I could always pay your brother for dinner and see if I have a chance with you." He was leering again. My stomach was doing flip-flops and not in a good way. I almost lost my burger right then and there all over his mother's pink upholstery.

"John you wouldn't want me anyway." I stared blankly out the front window. "I am going to stay a virgin until I'm married or thirty whichever one comes first."

"Hell Babe by the time you are thirty you will be an old maid. Nobody will want you at that age. You should half a dozen kids and be taking care of your old man by then. Let me teach you a thing or two before then. I'm sure he will appreciate all the education I can give you." We had pulled into the school's parking lot and had found a spot. John unbuckled his seat and slid across the bench towards me.

His large hands went to cup my breast just as my door swung open. Eric was standing there looking none too pleased. It was a good thing he showed up when he did, I wasn't too sure what John would have tried otherwise. I unsnapped my seat belt and exited the car in one fluid motion. Sophie-Anne was eyeing my date with lusty glances. She had always had the reputation of play fast and loose. I started at a fast clip towards the doors hoping to get inside before John caught up to me. No such luck.

The eight of us danced the night away. There was a big oops that happened at the ultra-conservative dance, the DJ was from out of state and played "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks. The song was half way through when the administration who was present realized with the lyrics actually were. Most of the students were screaming the song as it went on. Pam and I knew the song by heart and when it ended we finished it for the crowd.

I was popular for one moment in time as the students went wild around us. My heart swelled. I looked across the dance floor and found my brother and Eric standing side by side in deep conversation. Their eyes were clashing against one another even though their hands and faces were impassive. There was something up but I didn't care. I was being popular.

John grabbed me about the waist as "All By Myself" by Celine Dion created a calmer mood for dancers. I was tense. His hands were like a fire iron branding me as they laid claim to my waist and hip. I never realized how long five minutes actually is. There were lots of thoughts and ideas racing through my head as I was led in slow circles. A few of them were, I should have come to this dance all by myself. Even though Celine seems to have issues with not wanting to be alone, at times I am really okay with it. Also that this song as popular as it is should have more words. It is more like a repetitive chorus than actually a song, I will have to look into it later.

When the song ended, I quickly moved to get some punch and avoided John the rest of the night. It was definitely enough to last me the night; my life; an eternity. Eric, Tray and Jason rescued me for the various other slow dances or I would go help other dance committee members with the various tasks needed throughout the night.

Eric was the smoothest dancer, Tray had me laugh my way through all of our dances and it was nice to dance with my big brother whom I had been secretly missed since he left for school.

One of the last dances herald a huge relief to me.

"Do you like this song?" His breathe caressed my neck as I laid my head against his chest; it was 'Change the World' the melody and husky notes were somehow comforting. I nodded rubbing my face against his black button down shirt. "You know I was named after him." Eric said after a few seconds. We were dancing. His hands fit snuggly on my hip and in my hand. They were dry and slightly cool, like when you shake hands with someone who isn't nervous and always in control.

"Who?" Pulling my face against the steady beat of his heart. Craning my head to look around the floor to see the person Eric was named after.

"Eric Clapton." Taking his hand from my hip and placing it against the side of my face pushing it back towards his chest. "My mom loves the song Layla. She felt it was appropriate for my name to be Eric. I think she always wanted me to sing but I sound like a raspy old man when I try."

We both laughed because there were many Sunday school moments over the years when the teachers would ask him to help conduct because of his pitch and tone were so off.

His hands had begun to warm up against my skin and then he suddenly blurted out, "I hope you don't mind but I traded with John."

Laughing as he spun me around the gym, "Eric, what are you talking about? What did you trade with John?"

Completing my spin Eric pulls me back into his chest, he had grown since I was twelve. He is about two inches taller than I am, just tall enough to plant a kiss on my forehead. Shyly he pulls back and looked me in the eyes. "We traded dates, I'm going to take you home and John is going to take Sophie-Anne."

Smiling down on me, I was having conflicting emotions first elation not having to be around creepy John any longer and the second emotion was anger that Eric could be so highhanded. But the song Criminal came on and I slowly danced with him until my insides ached. It was one of two times that I saw him until the airport close to seven years later.


End file.
